The Slytherin Waltz
by Rosa Clearwater
Summary: "Step aside, Weasley, and do try to grasp the simplicity of the waltz." Or, a slight twist on a hilarious movie scene.


A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, things would be just a little different.

…

The room was basked in light. An elegant woman primly stood in the center.

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the-" She started grandly, before throwing a look at Filch's ineptitude. The man in question was, as usual, quite oblivious.

But she had not been rehearsing this speech for the last week for nothing. And not even the caretaker's incompetence was going to ruin the next ten minutes for her.

"Triwizard Tournament since its inception" She forced herself to look towards her students, smiling ever so slightly as she stepped forth. The ends of her emerald robes followed her rather gracefully, and her general demeanor illustrated that Minerva McGonagall was indeed the very definition of poise and refinement.

"On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of _well mannered_ frivolity." She was staring dead at the usual culprits at the words 'well mannered', making sure to fix all the male students with a cold gaze.

And that's when her trained ears caught the faintest hint of a snort near the entrance.

But, she was determined to continue and pay the unexpected intruder no heed.

"As representatives of the whole school I expect each _and_ every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because," She drew herself up even more so than before, mentally preparing for the chaos that would occur when she delivered this particular bombshell.

"The Yule Ball is first and foremost," _Here goes the blissfully silent attention._ "A _dance_."

She allowed their groanings, mutterings, and general unnecessary chattering to continue for only six seconds.

"Silence!" They knew better than to ignore her sharp command. "The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons!"

 _Really, woman? That's the description you went with?_

She did not need to know Legilimency to know that Severus was barely holding off another disbelieving snort at her words.

Yet he was one to talk. She heard him rehearse his own speech, catching the words "dunderheads" and "Gryffindors" slipping into at least twice.

But that was neither here nor there.

"Now, to dance is to let the body _breathe_. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to take flight!" She had already heard what the Weasley twins were mumbling in the back. But when her ears caught the rude remark Weasley had dared to utter about Miss Midgen, she was not pleased.

Immature interruptions were one thing. Outright bullying of any kind was something else altogether.

She immediately fixed her disapproving gaze on Weasley.

"Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance! Mr. Weasley," She was not pleased with his actions, but she was rather happy to put him on the spot. Rightfully so. "Will you join me, please?"

It was not a request, and he knew it.

"Yes." Came the timid muttering of a boy who knew he crossed a line.

This time, she allowed Severus to softly snort as he still stood in the entrance. As long as he didn't interrupt this, she was inclined to pay him no real attention.

"Now, place your right hand on my waist."

" _Where?_

"My waist. Now, extend your arm," Professor McGonagall knew everyone would be giving him a hard time about this for at least a week.

Yet, Minerva had no sympathy whatsoever.

"Mr. Filch, if you please." And, as the music began to play, she counted off the beats.

For someone who was supposed to be leading her, Mr. Weasley seemed quite content to shrink into himself and let her do most of the leading.

Now, she knew his style was a combination of embarrassment and lack of knowledge. Nevertheless, it was frustrating to discover he not only needed to refine his leading, he also needed to understand _where_ to put his feet.

However, Minerva was not going to berate any more than she had to. He was sufficient enough. Furthermore, after a few seconds into the piece, she was convinced that the other students would at least be able to follow and-

"No, no, Weasley, completely wrong!"

 _Severus_ , the woman wanted to growl but was determined to remain poise. The Potions Master was already heading towards them, a scowl fixed on his face.

"You do not _step on her toes_ , you guide her gently with your firm step." Minerva would never admit he had a point, at least not in front of her entire House. But, he did.

Unfortunately, that only created more awkwardness in Mr. Weasley's step. And a clear groan of disbelief escaped Severus as he observed this.

"Step aside, Weasley, and do _try_ to grasp the simplicity of the waltz." And suddenly she was maneuvered into familiar arms that she had never embraced in such a fashion. She almost felt a blush creep into her cheeks, but she was not about to let herself be upstaged in her own lesson.

She only let herself stiffen for a fraction of a moment at the change in pace and lead.

She then allowed herself to primly melt into his lead, and _that's_ when they truly began to waltz.

It was the most elegant battle they had ever performed. He was too determined to prove the idiocy of her Gryffindors to notice the potential awkwardness that this situation brought. And, she was too taken aback to allow herself to back down.

Hardly either of them noticed that the Waltz was supposed to be reaching its end. The music was beginning to decrescendo, the pace was starting to slow down.

The waltzers were still lost to the outside world.

He was impressed by her ability to give to his lead and she was pleased by his ability to properly lead. Emerald twirled into billowing black, as they stepped throughout the room.

It was only once she was spun, revolving around him several times before being guided to spiral beautifully into the center, that Minerva realized that they could be taking this one step too far.

"Now, everybody come together! Boys, on your feet!" When she heard only silence, she realized the music had already come to an end. "Mr. Filch, if you would be so kind as to play the music once more." Minerva was suddenly being whirled back into his arms, feeling quite surprised by this.

But then she noticed the sly smirk on his face, he _knew_ he caught her off guard. Naturally, this meant that retaliation would most certainly be in order.

"Minerva, there's no need to attempt to show off. I have already deemed your dancing ability to be decently... _competent._ " Severus seemed to be adapting rather well to dancing on air, which only caused Minerva to feel frustrated. And wonder where - and when - on Earth he learned to dance like this.

"Well, Severus, perhaps if you would be so kind as to refrain from interrupting my lessons, I'd be more inclined to refrain from 'showing off'."

"And spare Weasley necessary mortification? I could hardly stand the injustice."

 _A lady does not roll her eyes. A lady does not purposefully step on her lead's toes. A lady does not-_

And then he stole her breath away by grandly twirling her into a divine dip.

Right as their feet touched the ground.

There was a smattering of applause, and a few indiscreet whispers. That's when she realized the music had once again finished and had probably stopped playing for quite some time now.

" _Dismissed!_ "

The students stood there only for half a moment before remembering which Professors had been instructing them for the last fifteen minutes.

As they scurried off to their next class, she took a moment to breath and regain her bearing. Unfortunately, regaining her bearing meant remembering one little insignificant detail:

She was still captured in his arms.

And he was going to be insufferable about this for at least a week.

...

A/N: Yup. I totally ship it. Even if they remain friends who playfully snark about each other's House and Quidditch, I totally ship it.


End file.
